


everything we always talked about (mark them off the bucket list)

by Wewereborninthewronguniverse



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Blasphemy, Bucket List, Clubbing, Hospital, It's pretty self indulgent, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sick Character, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Sort of? - Freeform, Will add more tags as I go, not gonna lie, there will probably be a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-08-11 15:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wewereborninthewronguniverse/pseuds/Wewereborninthewronguniverse
Summary: A chance encounter at a hospital in Tadfield brings together Crowley and Aziraphale's two completely different worlds





	1. The hospital

**Author's Note:**

> First ever fic, completely unbeta'd  
Enjoy!

This story, like most, begins in a hospital. More specifically it begins in the waiting room of the Tadfield public hospital, rather than a Satanic Nun’s birthing hospital as one might assume a story such as this should begin.

“Sssshit- fuck buggar” Crowley hissed, still clutching his broken arm, morbidly admiring the unnatural angle it seemed to hang on. He had been waiting for close to two hours now.

“Who do you have to blow to see a doctor around here?” He asked the near empty waiting room, and received identical looks of distain from a harsh looking older woman, and a man who couldn’t have been more than a handful of years older than Crowley himself. Giving the man a cursory glance, Crowley took in the rosary beads clutched tightly in his hands, as well as the dull beige colour coordinated outfits he and the women were wearing. ‘_Religious nuts’_ Crowley thought and snorted derisively.

Crowley shifted in his chair. Waiting to get his stupid broken arm set in a stupid cast at this stupid hospital had already taken longer than it should have and he had no way of knowing if Adam had been picked up from school. Hastur had promised he would after dropping Crowley at the hospital but, Crowley knew that he’s more than likely smoking himself into a pot-induced coma somewhere.

After an age, the doctor walked out into the waiting room, and following her was the most beautiful man Crowley had ever seen. The harsh fluroescents made his blonde hair appear almost white, which should’ve given him a ghostly appearance but combined with his cherubic smile, he appeared ethereal. All the air in Crowley’s lungs rushed out in one long whoosh, leaving him dizzy. The man glanced at him for one lingering moment and Crowley collected himself just in time to flash his most charming smile, but he noticed that the man’s eyes were so terribly sad, such a strange offset to the rest of his face.

“Anthony Crowley”, the doctor called, distracting him from the Angel in front of him. Crowley sauntered after the doctors retreating form. Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he saw that the Angel had joined the two grumpy pricks from earlier. ‘_Ahh figures’_, Crowley thought, ‘_The most beautiful man and he’s probably a monk at this point’._ Still Crowley found himself intrigued.

Likewise, Aziraphale unknowingly found his gaze lingering on the ginger teen’s hips as he followed the doctor out of the waiting room. Quickly, hoping Michael and Garbriel hadn’t noticed, he pulled his eyes away from the other boy and focussed on putting one foot in front of the other as he followed his family out to the car.

“I don’t know why you insist on seeing Her, Aziraphale, it’s not going to change anything.” Michael chastised him, “Only the power of the Lord is going to be able to heal you”

Aziraphale felt a tight pang in his chest, Michael’s words hurt him in ways that he never expected. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in the Lord, and the great Ineffable Plan, but it always seemed so harsh to him, that Michael and Gabriel refused to take action in whatever way they possibly could to extend his time here on Earth. Aziraphale sighed and tried not to let his voice tremble,

“I’m doing better, she said,” Aziraphae lied.

Michael hummed.

“I may even reach 21,” Lie again.

_Three months at best_.

The words played on repeat in Aziraphale’s mind the entire ride home, rogue thoughts of any stranger in a hospital waiting room were completely abandoned in favour of a plan slowly forming. When they arrived home, Aziraphale dodged any lingering questions – of which there weren’t many – claiming fatigue, and scurried away to his room. Once inside he opened up a new document on his dusty old laptop, and in neat script began to type;

**The Bucket List**

1.

Aziraphale sat staring at the blinking cursor for a long time, before he began to type. Carefully, weighing the pros and cons of each addition, Aziraphale constructed The List – deserving of mental capitulation he thought. The freshly printed sheet warmed his shaking fingers, Aziraphale folded it neatly and placed it into his breast pocket. '_Tomorrow_,' Aziraphale thought, _'Tomorrow I’ll start really living_.'


	2. The Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a longer update, most of this chapter is inspired by Promises by Calvin Harris ft Sam Smith
> 
> Let me know if you guys are liking it, or come talk to me on tumblr @wewereborninthewronguniverse

Open mic nights, Crowley found, was rather a terrible experience when your arm was in a cast. Not only did it itch like crazy, but the whole cafe was unbearably hot and the Baristas here were adamant that “No sir we can’t serve you alcohol here, it’s a family friendly night and also your arm is in a cast”. But he didn’t complain, after all he was only at this little hole-the-wall mess of a cafe because he owed Anathema a favour, and she cashed it in on supporting her latest conquest who was apparently a “musician”.

“Anathema baby,” Crowley begged, “take pity on us mere mortals and let’s get out of here, go down to Heathens, hmm? You know its half price drinks if you take your shirt offfff” Anathema silenced him with a look that said ‘We’ll talk about this later’, as Nick or Noah or whatever his name was finished his, quite frankly awful, set and made his way over to the booth Crowley and Anathema had found themselves in.

“Newt,” Ah that was it, “You were amazing babe, oh and you remember Crowley?”

“No ah I don’t believe we’ve met,” Newt held out his hand but awkwardly dropped it after seeing Crowley’s arm. _What kind of a tosser shakes hands these days anyways?_

“Right,” Crowley said, giving Anathema a pointed look.

“Oh alright. Newt, Crowley and I were going to head over to Heathens, wanna come?” Anathema hadn’t really needed to ask, the poor boy was already halfway to head-over-heels in love with her, which, more than likely, would end in heartbreak and resentment within weeks. But that was none of Crowley’s business, what or who Anathema spent her downtime with was of no consequence to him as long as they could get some decent alcohol.

The line for Heathens was considerably longer than usual, Crowley noticed as he rounded the corner, not that lines ever matter for him. Crowley, for almost as long as he could remember, was an honorary member of his father’s gang whose illicit dealings came with some pretty nice perks. They called themselves Demons which Crowley figured was kind of a stupid name, but when your leader was Lucifer why not follow the theme? Crowley, Anathema, and Newt breezed past the queue to see what was keeping everyone out in the cold air, and found the disturbance within one very angry young patron and the club’s bouncer. Time ceased to have meaning when Crowley spotted who it was.

It was Him.

The Angel from the hospital.

Currently arguing with the bouncer, his pale skin flushed with anger, waving around a creased sheet of paper and gesturing wildly. There was a determined gleam in his eye that Crowley couldn’t help but admire, a feistiness that completely offset Crowley’s memory of sorrowful eyes. Without thinking, Crowley slung an arm around the man’s shoulder.

“My good man, the Angel here is with us”, Crowley addressed the bouncer with his most charming smile, the one Anathema said made him look most snakish, “If you would be so kind as to let us in, I won’t mention this to the Big Man Downstairs, hmm?”

The bouncer quickly let their small party into Heathens, where they were assaulted with the smell of sweat and cheap liquor. Now that they were inside, the angel looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but in the club. Crowley shook his head, the poor fool was wearing suspenders for somebodies sake, and he’d be eaten alive in a place like this without Crowley here by his side.

And _that_ was a thought he didn’t care to examine deeply. Crowley shook his head again, and led the angel towards the bar.

“What’s your name anyway?” Crowley mumbled as they ordered their drinks, leaning in so he didn’t have to shout over the noise of the club.

“Aziraphale,” the blonde responded primly, with a sniff and a shy glance towards Crowley, “and you’re Anthony.”

“Just Crowley,” he responded, then his brain caught up with the conversation, “wait you remember me from the hospital? Should I be flattered or concerned?” Pink spread across Aziraphale’s cheeks as embarrassment flooded through him. Crowley wondered for almost a second, just how far that blush spread.

“Flattered certainly – ah I mean – that is to say – well I – buggar,” Aziraphale sighed and quickly took a large gulp of his drink. He crinkled his nose up in disgust at the flavour and Crowley tried very hard not to find it adorable.

“Calm down, angel. I’m just messing with ya” There was a long moment of silence which neither could really describe as anything but comfortable, odd given that they’d only just met.

“So,” Crowley said after a beat, “Whats with the paper? Saw you waving it around like a madman out there” Aziraphale didn’t laugh like Crowley expected, in fact he looked sad again, beyond sad even but Crowley didn’t have the words to describe his expression.

“It’s a uh – well sort of a bucket list?” Aziraphale ended on a question, Crowley raised his eyebrows in a way which he though conveyed, ‘Well go on’. “Yes well ah I – uh someone I know died recently, and they wanted me to continue on and do the things on the list. One of which is going to a club, so here I am?”

The way Aziraphale saw it, it wasn’t a complete lie as it truly felt that a previous version of himself had died when he began writing the bucket list. Although he wasn’t quite sure why he was so worried about lying to Crowley, it wasn’t as if they knew each other.

“You’re joking, like in the movies?” Crowley thought this was actually rather a cool and thoughtful thing to do, but he didn’t want to let on that he was that interested. “Go on, what else is on the list?”

Aziraphale huffed, as it was rather a personal thing to him, this list. But without looking at it, as he had it memorised at this point, he began to list off some of the activities; “Well theres going to a club, getting drunk, skinny dipping – that type of thing really.”

“And you’ve never been to a club before?” Crowley wondered aloud.

“Not even once, this is the first time.”

“Well by all means, allow me and my friends to show you the ropes” Crowley held out his hand with a predatory grin, Aziraphale stared transfixed into his golden eyes. He almost didn’t take the offered hand, doubts creeping into his mind and settling like homing birds. But slowly his hand raised, as if by its own will and settled into Crowley’s. Without a care for the jostling and bumping of the bodies around them, Crowley led the pair through the dance floor, to a secluded booth were a few more teenagers were hanging out. Aziraphale recognised the two from outside but didn’t recognise the others. Crowley dropped his hand as the got closer to the booth, and Aziraphale only spent a moment feeling disappointed at the loss before he saw Crowley and a scruffy looking guy doing an elaborate handshake.

“Hastur you bastard, I thought I told you get Adam,” Crowley’s words were harsh, but said in a way that Aziraphale guessed meant that he was joking.

“I would’ve boss, but Ligur scored a couple grams off his mum so you know how that goes,” Hastur responded with a wink, which Aziraphale only vaguely understood to mean drugs when suddenly the girl from outside butted in.

“Yeah and you left me to deal with the actual Son of Satan – no offense Crowley,” she added at his soft ‘hey’. Aziraphale was just wondering if he should leave Crowley alone - or would that be considered rude? - when Crowley’s hand returned to his and yanked him down into the booth. There wasn’t much room with all of them in the booth, so Crowley’s presence felt like a line of fire pressed tightly against Aziraphale’s side.

“Relax Angel, we don’t bite” Crowley whispered into his ear, which made Aziraphale tense up further for half a second before purposefully relaxing his shoulders just a bit.

“So is Adam your uh – your boyfriend?” Aziraphale asked, and the entire table erupted into raucous laughter. _Oh dear_, Aziraphale thought, _I__’ve really messed it up now._ Slowly the laughter died down, and Aziraphale saw Crowley wiping tears from his eyes.

“Wheew I haven’t laughed like that in a long while,” Crowley said, still trying to catch his breath, “No no, Adam is my brother, he’s 11 and a complete ass.”

Conversation flowed like the liquor they were drinking, but Aziraphale barely noticed. To say Crowley was distracting was a complete understatement, he wasn’t the loudest at their table but he had an air about him that was charismatic, and it was obvious from the way he spoke that he was a leader of sorts to this group of rebels. Aziraphale, naturally shy for the most part, was a quiet observer to the chaos of their conversation and evidently Crowley had noticed.

“Care to dance?” He whispered in Aziraphale’s ear, sending a violent shiver through his body, that Aziraphale hoped Crowley didn’t notice. He nodded in agreement and quickly followed Crowley to the crowded dance floor.

“Perhaps I should warn you, I don’t know any dances other than the Gavotte,” Aziraphale had to shout over the heavy bass pumping through the room. Crowley cracked an easy smile, and took hold of Aziraphale’s hips, somewhat awkwardly given his arm was in a cast but Aziraphale didn't mind.

“It’s easy Angel, just follow my lead.” He began to sway his and Aziraphale’s hips to the rhythm of the music, some song Aziraphale didn’t know, the singer crooning about not making promises tonight.

They started a careful distance apart, just shy of appropriate, and maybe it was the alcohol in Aziraphale’s system or the atmosphere of the club but he found himself orbiting closer to Crowley. Drawn in by his charm and predatory grin, Aziraphale felt hypnotized for a moment, it was then that he realised just how close they were and just how much of a reaction Crowley was causing in him. He tried to step back, Crowley noticing his hesitation took his hand and spun Aziraphale so that his back was pressed up against Crowley’s front.

“Just relax,” Crowley murmured in his ear, Aziraphale tried to suppress a shudder at the proximity. Aziraphale knew that Crowley was interested in this, in him, but it didn’t feel right to lead him on like that, not when –

_Three months_

Aziraphale couldn’t let this go any further, and besides they hadn’t even kissed yet and they were practically having sex on a dancefloor, it was improper. He pulled himself out of Crowley’s grip and stumbled towards the exit, trying to ignore the hurt look on Crowley’s face. He turned once, just before he walked out the door, but Crowley had already disappeared, swallowed up by the sea of bodies grinding against each other. Aziraphale shook his head, and spent the entire walk home trying desperately to forget the feeling of Crowley’s body.

Crowley stalked back to the booth and quickly downed his whiskey.

“What happened to the blond weirdo?”

“Dunno, probably remembered he had church in the morning,” Crowley snorted to cover up the bubble of hurt that had lodged itself firmly in his throat. _Why had he taken off like that_? It had seemed to Crowley that he had been having a good time. A plan to track Aziraphale down had already begun to form in Crowley’s mind.


	3. The Church

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg guys sorry for the super late update, uni is kicking my butt  
anyways hope you enjoy the chapter x

Anyone who knew anything about Aziraphale would tell you that tracking him down was a piece of cake, both in the metaphorical and literal sense. Aside from his home, school and church, Aziraphale hardly ever went anywhere except perhaps to treat himself to something sweet at a local, family run café or bakery. Therefore, Crowley should have had an easy time finding the man who had so fully captured his attention, but for the one small problem in that Crowley did not know Aziraphale very well at all. They were practically strangers. Which paints Crowley in a rather manic and stalker-ish light, but that’s just an unaffiliated observer’s view.

Crowley had by now spent three weekends loitering outside of local churches, scaring old men and ladies, and on one occasion had been chased across the street and down the road by a rather sprightly priest hell-bent on exorcising him. And for what? So far his plan to find and confront Aziraphale had been a complete bust.

The first weekend, Crowley thought he had caught a glimpse of the other two people from the hospital, but they was no sign of Aziraphale’s bright curls amongst the sea of parishioners. By now, Crowley was just about ready to give up when he passed a familiar church again on his way home. With a disheartened glance he scanned the crowd milling around the building, across the pool of near identical strangers wearing masks of feigned interest. _‘Fakers, the lot of them’_ Crowley thought, seconds before his eyes registered Aziraphale’s distinct halo of hair. He was stood away from the crowd, kicking stones with a sad smile. Seeing Aziraphale reminded Crowley why he was spending his weekends trudging around town, hanging out around churches.

Aziraphale was a mystery Crowley just couldn’t leave alone.

“OI”, Crowley shouted, gaining not just Aziraphale’s attention, but most of the congregation’s too. Crowley raised his arm to wave at the other man, but quickly lowered it when he saw Aziraphale glance nervously at his family and minutely shake his head. Aziraphale tilted his head and raised his eyebrows which Crowley interpreted as “we can’t talk here but I’m happy to see you”, but it’s just as likely that he meant “fuck off, you’re going to get me in trouble”. Crowley quickly scurried down the street and around the corner to a nearby park, he could feel Aziraphale’s eyes watching him the whole way.

Aziraphale’s heart was pounding as he quickly strode into the park, his thoughts were blurring together as panic had begun to set in. ‘_Why had Crowley tried to find him?’, _a small part of Aziraphale wondered if meeting Crowley in the park would mean certain death from being shanked, or jumped by a gang or something equally uncouth. Aziraphale was so lost in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t see Crowley who was lounging on a bench, seemingly in a heated argument with some of the local ducks.

He racked his brain for something witty to say about Crowley’s sudden appearance, but was quickly distracted by the way Crowley acted when he wasn’t surrounded by his groupies. It was nice, actually, Aziraphale thought, almost as if Crowley’s whole persona was just an act. But then Crowley caught sight of him, and the cool-guy façade settled across his features like the shades he always wore.

“Should I be worried that you’ve taken to stalking me?” Aziraphale asked, “I’ve got money, if it’s about the drinks the other night”

“No” Crowley shouted, “I mean yes, well it is about the other night but I don’t need your money”, Crowley just managed to stumble his way through the sentence. There was something about seeing Aziraphale in the sunlight, so different from the harsh hospital lights, and the dull lighting of the club, he was stunning. Aziraphale smiled then, a small hopeful thing that grew and filled his eyes with teasing glee.

“So you were looking for me, just to say hello?”

Crowley, if he was being honest with himself, did not believe that he would get as far as finding Aziraphale. And if he had found him, he thought that Aziraphale would think him creepy for stalking a man he’d really only met once. So Crowley had not prepared for this conversation. At all.

“Yes, hi, hello. I also wanted to know how you were getting on with that list?”, Crowley had no idea what he wanted to say. Confront him about why he ran off at the bar? Maybe ask him out for coffee? Probably the latter, but something told him that his usual pick-up lines weren’t going to cut it this time.

“My list? Oh you remembered that silly old thing?” Aziraphale gently patted his breast pocket, feeling the soft outline of the paper, which weighed a metaphorical tonne. “Not good I’m afraid dear, I’m at a loss as to how to achieve some of them.”

Both teens froze at Aziraphale’s accidental use of a pet name, glancing at each other, then away. Crowley looked back first.

“Hey, what if I helped? I’m not a bad guy, and I’ve got nothing better to do really.” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up at the suggestion.

“Oh would you really? I can’t pay you, but I would be so grateful to have a friend.” Crowley smiled back, a charming roguish number that made Aziraphale’s cheeks hot.

“Of course, Angel. What’re friends for?”

_‘Friends. I can do friends’ _The both thought at the same time, which most would consider to be the world’s most incredible coincidence but some might simply say was ineffable.

“Come on then, whats the next thing on your list?” Crowley asked, Aziraphale pulled out the well-worn sheet but didn’t hand it over, Crowley watched as his bright blue eyes scanned across the page.

“Hm well I suppose I can cross ‘Go to a club’, and ‘Get drunk’ off the list, as per the night we met,” Aziraphale glanced up to see if Crowley was still paying attention, he nodded, “Well I suppose next is 3. Get a tattoo”

Crowley reflexively traced his snake tattoo, remembering the night he’d gotten it. It was on a whim, a way of acting out against his father. Crowley flinched remembering the way that his mum’s flower pots had been thrown across the room. How his father hadn’t spoken to him for weeks afterwards, which was as much a blessing as a curse. Crowley quickly shook himself out of his memories when he realised the blond was still waiting for a response.

“It’s a Sunday, no tattoo artist is gonna be open now. But I know I a really good one who’ll get you a good deal when we go” Crowley quickly added when he saw Aziraphale’s crestfallen expression, “Whats next?”

Aziraphale glanced at his list then immediately blushed.

“Oh no I hardly think you’ll want to engage in that sort of behaviour – its uh, rather improper and um”

“Just spit it out would you”

“4. is ah skinny-dipping” Immediately Crowley began to howl with laughter, Aziraphale didn’t understand what was so amusing to the ginger that he now had streams of tears running down his face and he was gasping for air.

“If you don’t want to you could’ve just said so. There’s no need to make fun of me.” Aziraphale said haughtily, and moved to leave the park. The only thing stopping him was Crowley’s hand on his arm.

“Stop stop, I’m not making fun of you honestly,” he crossed his heart like a boyscout, “I just can’t believe that whoever wrote this list had never been skinny-dipping before.”

Aziraphale, not for the first time during this conversation, wondered if he was making a mistake by letting another person this close to him. He also briefly wondered how long this thing with Crowley was going to last and whether it was worth lying to him about it. Aziraphale was distracted from his thoughts by Crowley’s hand waving in front of his face, and took a moment to admire his beautifully painted black nails.

“Come on, if we want to make a day of this skinny-dipping, we’re gonna need some supplies and hurry so you’ll be back in time for dinner.” Without hesitation, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and together they left the garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated! and come talk to me on tumblr https://wewereborninthewronguniverse.tumblr.com/ I promise I don't bite <33


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